A Silver of Trust
by Silver Gift
Summary: When I had died, I had been happy and satisfied with my life. But what I didn't expect, was me to be reborn in a show I loved so much. OC SI
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

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When I had died, I was happy. I had a warm family, with my kind mama, my strong papa, and my caring older sister. I had a bunch of friends whom I spent my life with, who stayed with me through thick and thin.

I was really happy and satisfied.

Then, life decided to throw in another lemon which was too sour and bitter to make into lemonade.

Yeah, I died.

* * *

What happens after death? When a person die, is he supposed to go to heaven?

What I did know, that I was pretty much... _Alive_.

It was confusing. Breathing in oxygen which seemed like ice, forming words which wouldn't quite come. But it didn't took long to realise that I was a baby. I mean, who wouldn't, if you get your diapers changed every now and then, and bottle-fed?

Just... Long story short, I died, and came back as a baby to haunt the world.

(Rahh, fear me world!)

Orphanages were all the same no matter where you go. A bit rundown, and simple looking. Strangly, I was satisfied with the fact that in this new life, I had no parents. Wouldn't it be weird and disturbing to have strangers believing that you are their child while all the time your mind was fixed on: this couple isn't my parents.

I wasn't the first orphan to be brought there. For the first two years of my life, I had been in a part of the orphanage which took care of younger children, as my only accompanies were babies. When I reached my third birthday, and I got shifted from the 'baby' to the 'nursery', things started to become a little more interesting.

I got excess to some children's story books for starters, and from it, I could tell that I was in US, or somewhere there. Or at least a country that spoke American English. (They spelt 'colour' as 'color', so I could at least be sure or that.)

There were fables, simplified bibles, and tons of books to read, but I soon exhausted my only entertainment source by the end of week one.

I had made it clear to the workers in the orphanage that I was at least smart enough not to get into trouble when they took their eyes off me. Not to mention I was very, very quick to 'potty-train' myself, so I was left alone for the most part besides mealtimes and naptimes, something that I very much approved of.

I could say that that the adults were quite relieved over my nature, since I rarely demanded attention or anything. (Once I had to do a sort of a half-wail because one of the adults locked me in a room, and I didn't even realised I was locked until lunchtime.)

There was one interesting rumour, though. There were whispers of 'demon child' in the orphanage, and naturally, being the busybody I always was, I poked my nose directly into this case.

That, was probably how I came to a startling conclusion that I was no longer in my own world.

* * *

I grimaced as I realised exactly how big the orphanage was, and there was definitely more than 30 kids running around at the same time. And that was only counting those that were present during my mealtime.

And we had different mealtimes, categorised by our age.

I sat by the table, closer to the adults, so I could hear the exchanges between them, and it would be less of a sudden to blurt questions to them this way.

"Hello ma'am?" I asked meekly.

I had been able to talk since before I was one, and after giving half the workers in the orphanage semi heart attacks with my supposedly prodigal skill, they had all accepted the fact that they were apparently raising a genius, which really meant that they had one less kid to take care of. And because I sometimes helped to look out for kids to make sure they don't walk out of the front door or crawl out of a window, I was very well favoured by some of the workers, evident when they lent me books (actual book, not children stories) to read.

Some kids in the orphanage didn't take the fact too well, though. Already at a young age, there were gangs formed, and there were bullies lurking in the orphanage. I usually ignored them but when they resorted to violence, I would just outrun them.

Good reason to build on my speed anyway.

"Who's the person you've been talking about?" I continued.

The lady paled slightly, and her her companion looked a tad startled.

"You wish to know what we spoke of, child?" She asked.

"Yes ma'am," I replied sweetly, "I'm just curious."

"And curiosity killed the cat," her companion signed. "It's best you leave this matter alone."

But the lady knew me better than her friend. She knew I would never put something which spiked my curiosity to rest. "Alright, I'd tell you, but promise me, child, that this would be the last time."

I nodded, but I knew I made no promise I couldn't keep.

The lady squatted down, so that she was closer to me, and she whispered in a hushed voice, "there's a boy in this orphanage who have a deformed hand. And it looks like one from a demon, who had slain enough to make his hand turn red."

I hummed in thought, and the two soon left me alone.

They would have been alarmed if they could read my mind, because at that point in time, all I could think of to make my life more interesting was to find this boy.

* * *

Despite what I had said, life past without me acknowledging it.

Though, I just knew the world was too small.

Because, before I hit four, I met _him_.

* * *

"Hand over that toy," the trio threatened.

The room was void of adults, perfect time for the bullies to strike. Their victim cowered, trembling slightly. The other children inched away from both the bullies and the victims. My eyes trailed over to them lazily, not really bothering that a bullying case was about to happen.

It was not that I didn't care. It was just a daily thing.

Then one of them glance towards me, and the three shared a quite discussion.

Before long, I found myself the new victim.

"Some guts you've gotten there, boy," one of them, the presumably leader of the trio, sneered at me.

Well, biologically and mentally, I was a girl. Maybe a tomboyish girl, but a girl nonetheless. It was only my appearance that fooled the people in the orphanage, and it felt too nice to mind blow them, and boys usually got a little more privilege than girls, so I had always kept my gender a secret.

Not that anyone cared, though.

Considering whether to reply a witty retort or just keep my mouth shut (in my past life, I had been getting in lots of trouble because of my words), I opted for the latter instead, wanting to observe first.

'_Hmmm, should I escape via the window this time?_' I weighed the idea up, '_or should I just invite them in a chase? I could train my stamina for any future events._'

I scanned the built of the leader, and immediately settled for the former.

"Too troublesome," I muttered, finding myself a shadow of Shikamaru from Naruto.

Too bad he was one of my favourite charactor.

"What was that, wimp?"

Wimp? Seriously? I could have come up with more imaginative words.

I opened my mouth to speak, but it came out as a gasp when I realised exactly who was standing beside the leader.

"Holy shit, Sasuke? As in, Uchiha Sasuke?"

The moment it came out, I knew I was wrong. For starters, Sasuke didn't have reddish-brown hair. Sasuke wasn't in an orphanage. And I just knew that I wasn't anywhere near a village called '_Konoha_', or that I had so far seen any ninja jumping on rooftops.

But all the while, both of them were so similar. The way that the boy sauntered around with his hand shoved in his pocket, the way that the boy looked coldly at everything, but all the same time, I knew that the boy was in grieve.

"I know you," I announced, as if it was something important. And I knew it was, just that I couldn't put a finger to it.

There was a moment of silence, before the bullies (minus the Sasuke-alike) bursted out laughing.

"You? Know _him_?" The leader jerked a thumb in the Sasuke-alike's direction, who looked really stunned.

In fact, he looked like he could collapse any moment.

"Yes. Yes, I know him," I repeated, this time confident and so sure of myself that had made the bullies did a double take.

Then, I realised, in the bullies' eyes, I was only a quiet target, who was never easy to impose on because I would be always quick to escape. But it wasn't because I stood up to them or something.

Granted, I wasn't exactly standing up to them at this moment, but none had the guts to really be unafraid in their presence. And so far, I had just been using the 'tactical retreat' strategy, preferring to get out of a trouble rather than solving it.

Indeed, so troublesome.

I had this spilt second thought that, maybe I shouldn't really have pointed it out. It would make no difference to my life anyway. Not to mention, it was impossible to know someone in this era. From what I observed, this was the freaking _nineteenth_ century.

I could be a little out dated in my own timeline, but I was no where as slow as to notice that there was, sadly, no smartphones and internet in this timeline.

The two bullies (except the Sasuke-alike) was whispering among themselves, and I couldn't be bothered with whatever exchange they made. However, my normal 'stand-by' mode had been switched to 'alert' mode once I became conscious as to what they were about to do.

Not really because of the bullies going to possibly harm their own gang member, but because of one phrase they said.

"Demon child," the leader snickered, with venom.

My eyes widened, and suddenly, it made sense.

Left hand. Deformed. Red.

Red. _Red_. Allen.

_Allen Walker._

I'm in D. Gray-Man?

Is the Earth still round?

I did not know exactly how I came to that conclusion, but it was as if everything just fitted, and it made perfect sense at the same time. Like an odd missing jigsaw puzzle that fitted well. It was unbelievable, yet convincing.

"That demon child has no names," the leader sniggered.

"His parents don't want him," the other added on.

My senses registered several things which happened: the bullies (now no-longer the trio, but just the duo) switched their target to the child-Allen, who was barely holding his place. Other bulies-in-hiding also ganged up (so now the duo became a group, just _marvellous_). I had a feeling somewhere there I had grabbed a trembling hand and pulled him along, escaping from the malicious crowd.

When the message had finally reached my mind, and then my brain started processing, I was no longer in the orphanage, or at least inside the orphanage. I squeezed the hand I had held, and even then, the trembling did not stop.

"It's okay," I cooed, "they won't get you here."

In the back of my mind, I silently pondered why Allen was actually part of the bullies. He had always seemed like the type of person who was easily intimidated, not the other way round. Then, logic hit me like a bucket of icy water, as I drew that, victims usually became bullies themselves. As a child, Allen must have feared that he would be ostracised because of his left arm, so he must have thought that joining the gang would help.

But obviously, it didn't.

Looking at the figure before me, I sighed. This was obviously going nowhere. And not to mention, I was feeling awkward. Like, really really awkward.

I was _never_ good at dealing with awkwardness.

'_When in doubt, be direct. Don't beat around the bushes_.' My lips quirked up in a wry smile as I remembered one of my quotes in my past life.

How could I forget my own way of living?

"What is your name?" I asked, though I knew very much that, Allen got his name only after Allen the dog died.

Wasn't it always good to start early?

He gave me a look of so much sorrow and hatred and hurt that it made my heart ached.

"Allen," I chocked, teetering between breaking down and giving 'motivational speech', before finally gaining control over my emotions. At his bewildered look, I repeated the name once more.

"Allen. You're Allen." I pointed to his chest, as if this simple action would make any difference.

"Who told you?" He retorted angrily, but at the same time, I could feel that tinge of hope lingering in his words.

"Nobody did," I said, and the hope immediately vanished. "I decided to name you Allen."

He was instantly on his feet, and he stomped, not caring a bit about the ruckus he made. "Who give you that right?" He snarled, fuming.

"I did." And Allen opened his mouth for more words, but I cut him off with my next words. "I've got to call you something since you're gonna be my friend." I stuck out my right hand.

Allen's mouth hung open, and his whole body immobilised, and his eyes darted between my hand and my face.

"You can always find someone else to be friends with," he huffed, clenching and unclenching the hem of his shirt, which looked shabby by the way. "In fact, you'll like that better."

I arched an eyebrow. "I'm asking you. And you don't even know me. Don't assume stupid things about me or I'll flip you."

Allen looked downright perplexed now. His gaze dropped to my hand again, which, by the way, was starting to get tired.

I sighed. God, this was awkward. Blowing out a breath, I reached forward, seized his right hand, and shook it firmly. "Nice to meet you, Allen. I don't have a name, you can call me whatever you feel like. "

And without another word, I released him and sat down on the grass, focusing on staring intensely at an insect attempting voyage on a stem of a plant and biting the inside of my cheek to stave off the burn of embarrassment threatening to rise in my cheeks.

I poked at a blade of grass. The introduction wasn't exactly what I had imagined, but it was frank and straight forward, and somehow I kind of liked it.

"...Nice to meet you too," Allen finally muttered. My eyes flash back up to find him staring back with an odd look on his face.

And when we finally decided to go back inside the orphanage, he remarked, "you're short."

"Well I'm younger than you are."

"Whatever you say, _Shrimp_."

And maybe that was why that became my nickname for the time being.

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* * *

**And so, my attempt at a DGM OC self-insert fic. Because this fandom seriously need more OC SI. Hello readers:D Hopefully my story would inspire some damn good writer to start a fanfic so I'd have more fanfic to read!**

**I want the DGM fandom to be revived! And hopefully with enough encouragement and support, Hoshino Katsura (that's the DGM author, btw) would soon continue her story! **

**So, err, see you next time, readers:) Please review!**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

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After I had found out that I was in the D. Gray-Man world and I had befriended the freaking _main character_, several things changed in my daily life.

There was a slight doubt for befriending Allen, but it was squashed almost as soon as it came, because there was just _no_ way I could escape Akumas and Noahs, maybe I could act dumb in the presence of the latter, but it could only get me as far as my luck could stretch. And from what I could see from DGM, Akumas were practically all over the world, as far and as wide as humans could go.

So, I'd decided to just jump straight into this mess, the ripple effect be damned.

I didn't mind Allen as a friend, anyway, despite the constant teasing of my height.

I now forced myself to fend off bullies instead of running away, to brace myself for the future, and I also set up various training courses, so that even when the future come with all the dangers, I would at least be _that_ much prepared, or at least able to cushion the impact.

_Or at least quick enough to run away, so that there'd be one less hostage to worry about, _my mind supplied bitterly, _recalling snippets of various DGM scenes._

Soon enough, I earned myself the feared and respected title of 'the queen of the orphanage'. The bullies feared me, the usually victims of said bullies' victims respected me. Enough said.

From both the DGM anime/manga, I had known that Allen had a 180 degree change in personality before and after Mana's death, but it was one thing to know the facts, and yet a completely different thing to remind myself constantly.

Not to mention, everyone was pretty harsh about Allen. The workers gave him apparently lesser food than the quantity they served to any other child. My nose wrinkled in disgust every thing I was reminded of this discrimination. But at the same time, I couldn't blame them.

I couldn't blame them because _I_ also had a thing against deformed limbs.

In my past life, I had always been queasy when in the presence of a handicap, or simply someone with deformities. It wasn't because I look down on them. No, it was because I was rather _afraid_ of them.

For some reason, I was just utterly scared of deformities.

And now, my only friend in this world, with all his potty mouth glory, had a red left hand.

The same hand which made him the '_demon child'._

Really, I didn't know how I should tackle the next few... Days? Weeks? Months?

Sometimes, I just wished there was an encyclopaedia of how to live a life or something.

* * *

Our friendship wasn't really _peachy_. We were just two kids (I found out I was younger by 2 years old... That explained how I had never noticed him when I was still in the 'baby' section of the orphanage.) who didn't trust anyone more than we could trust each other.

"Why do you do that?" He came over once, during my training.

The orphanage had a backyard, and occasionally there would be kids around, but when the sun was still in its slumber and the pale moon still hung on the sky, I would get my lazy ass out of bed, and force myself into a set of agility drills, stamina workout, speed trainings and so on. I made that my daily routine, which I would do every morning and evening, and I made it a point to do these sets without me slacking off.

I had always encouraged myself, that '_it's better to get used to it now, than in the middle of a fight where I was clearing not winning in any chance, and trying to get my pathetic self out of the battle back to wherever safe_'. In my past life, I had been an athletic, and somehow I had known it helped me, even if at times I just really wanted a day off.

It had been so troublesome and tiring at first, and it never got any better from there, but at least I could see myself improving.

However, one thing that I was sure of, was that nobody ever witness my trainings.

Thus, it really was a surprise when Allen followed me all the way to the backyard, several days after our somewhat established 'friendship'.

I paused in mid-shuffling, and as my body threatened to just collapse, I settled for a slow jog on the spot.

"To train myself," I replied brusquely, trying my best not to pant as I speak.

"What for?"

My breathings were no longer so wind up, and I could feel my heart beat thrumming a slower beat. What reasons could there be? To prepare myself in the upcoming Holy War? To escape? To protect? My lips pulled up in a maniac grin.

_What am I training myself for?_

"So that I could grow faster, and you'll no longer be calling me short."

"Humph, you'd always be short, Shrimp!" He retorted in a fit of childishness, and despite the insult directed at me, I continued grinning, not at all bothered by this fact.

"They make you tougher, and taller," I maintained, "and since I train, _I'll_ be taller than you one day."

And since then, he had joined my trainings.

I hid a smirk. It is always good to start early, isn't it?

* * *

While I was aware that Allen never took off his oven mitt, even when he slept at night (no, I wasn't peeking on him after he sleep, it was just that his roll-up bed was always near the window, furthest away from the others, so when I sneaked back after training via window, it didn't took me long to gain knowledge of that fact.) but I certainly didn't see this coming. By 'this' I meant Allen wearing that oversized glove of his, all the time doing some drills.

Once or twice, I restrained an urge to demand him to take off his glove because it wasn't helping at all. And looking at him, I visualised myself training with that worn out mitt of his.

_Urgh_.

Though, I couldn't really tell him to just take it off. Both of us knew what purpose the glove served, even if he didn't know that I was very well aware of that fact. For one, Allen had been discriminated and shunned for his life because of that hand, even though it had become his weapon in the later parts of his life.

My running slowed to a jog, and when I finally stopped to do stretch down, I thought about Allen's life once again and I compared it to the Elric brothers. Both had suckish childhood, made their most precious person into a _monster_, but turned out great in the end.

_Just... _My eyes slid to the sweat-soaked figure, who seemed so determine in completing his sets._ It's just that D. Gray Man was never finished._

Silently, I moaned for that cruel fact.

This wasn't getting any better, so I tried to focus on the bright side. _Okay, I got some knowledge about this world. Future Allen is on friendly terms on Neah, who by right is his uncle, since Allen is adopted by Mana, who is the brother of Neah. Future Allen, for some reason, wants Neah to implant his memory on present Allen..._ I listed mentally.

Mouth opening for a jaw-breaking yawn, I assumed the time judging from the still dark blue of the sky. Making a split second decision that some sleep was perfect at that moment, I curled up in a fetal position, conscious dimming.

* * *

I woke up, took notice of the position of the morning sun, proceeded to blink the sleep out of my eyes, and scanned my surroundings. I found Allen dozing off some distance away from me. Chuckling as I recalled my high school's discipline mistress' talks about BGR (Boy-Girl Relationship), something about having to stay one elbow distance away from opposite gender.

Unable to pass this chance, I crawled (yes, I was lazy, and tired) over to Allen, having the urge to just see his sleeping form.

He was so young in his sleep, with no trace of a scowl or distrust. He seemed so peaceful, some part of me desired him to live in that peace forever, and some part of me wanted to shed tears in sympathy.

My eyes strayed to the oven mitt.

_Should I?_

I had said that I was aware of Allen's hand, but in this life, I had never actually seen it before. And one thing that never put me to rest is curiosity.

_Yeah_, that curious side of me chirped. _You should just do as your heart says._

So, carefully, I removed the mitt. Once, Allen stirred, but when I glanced over to his face, his eyes were still closed, even though his brows were knitted. If Allen was awake, he would stop me. So I had assumed him asleep.

With the piece of clothing slipping off, his left hand was now naked and unprotected from sight. I examined the hand, and my eyes particularly staying a few seconds longer on the cross engraved on the back of his hand. It wasn't glowing, like what it had been in the first episode of DGM. Instead, it seemed like a dominant Innocence, as if waiting for its accommodator to make its first move.

Gingerly, I touched it with the tip of my finger, and I sucked a shaky breath in. Nothing happened, which was kinda expected. Something _would_ be wrong if that hand suddenly reacted to me. Feeling a bit braver, I brushed my finger over the red skin.

It was rough, unlike the normal skin texture, which wasn't that much of a surprise. The fingernails where a midnight black, and his joints were protruding out. To be frank, I was still a little scared of Allen's left hand, but when I pushed past my fears, I understood that there were nothing to be afraid of. Allen was human, so am I.

I smiled ruefully, and gently lifting his left hand up, I interlocked my other hand's fingers onto his, my slightly calloused skin meeting his scaly one.

Slowly, as if on pure instinct, the hand closed on mine. And I almost giggled, being reminded too much of a seahorse's tail curling around your hand. (I have the weirdest imaginary scenes popping up in my mind at the randomest times.)

Insightfully, I noted that I had overcome of of my fears.

Even though there was still this irritating voice at the back of my mind, annoying me with its singsongs of '_love~_'.

I just growled mentally in response.

That day, I decided to half-drag Allen indoor instead of leaving him outside like usual.

* * *

I had a dream last night.

It was a weird dream, somehow I was in my past life, walking through the corridors of my school. I passed by various classrooms, waving and greeting several friends when I spotted them.

I chatted with them, briefly, but I never lingered in one place for very long. We exchanged general topics like '_have you done your math assignment?_', '_what are you eating for lunch?_' and such, it almost seemed like I really was in school during a typical schoolday.

Then, it shifted. I was at home, studying (which was a strange thing, since I _rarely_ study at home), and I decided to take a break.

I was watching _animes_.

Then, I was starting at the grey ceiling of the orphanage, and rolled my eyes mentally at the odd tendencies of my dream's abrupt stops.

I yawned, and I thought back about my dream, which was already leaving me, as all dreams were easily forgotten. Somehow, my mind grasped into the 'anime' part, and I let it wander.

Then, realisation came to me like a bucket of icy water.

That, Allen was seven when he met Mana.

And he met Mana in a circus.

The said circus' Ringmaster had bought him, and Allen probably had been in the circus for a long time, like at least one year. Which made him around the age of six, give or take, when he finally left this orphanage.

And the two of us were 2 years apart.

Which made me four, and Allen six.

As I continued to lie on the bed, unthinking and being too lazy to get up, I glared weakly at the dirty grey wall, and muttered, "I gonna cuss now."

And let out a string of colourful vulgurs.

* * *

That day, I never once saw Allen. Not that day, not the following day, not ever again.

However, I knew I would meet him again.

I just needed to be strong by then.

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* * *

**Sooooo... That's chapter 2 for y'all:D I didn't expect myself to update so soon, even though I had told my classmate that I'd update, like two days ago, and at some parts the story seemed quite abrupt. Well anyway, here's Chapter 2!**

**And, sorry people, I mixed this story with another story, so actually the OC never died of cancer... You'll know what happento her in the future. (Smirks)**

**I had been thinking of the OC's name for this story even before I started this fic, but so far none had satisfied me. **_**Please drop an idea for the character's name! **_**And state the name's hidden meaning (but don't give me some gems like Ruby or something!), originally I wanted to name her Gin (Jap for silver, and really, it's the reason for both my pen name and the story's title) but it seemed too manly, even though Silver seems good. Maybe if I get a good name, I'll make Silver her surname or something?**

**Err, so enough of my rantings. Here's the review replies:D**

**Review Replies**

**snkannie: Uuuwwwaaa~ I can't read this... Whatever language you've sent My curiosity made me do google translate, and I think I got what you're saying. Thanks for the interest in my story:)) Please try to submit in English, and thanks for your support. I'm glad that you enjoy this story!**

**jaoosa2: (Laughs) Here's another chapter:D Your review just gives me plenty of plot bunnies! And honestly, I haven't thought of the Noahs yet. However, as the OC is 'reborn' that means that her body still biogically belongs to the DGM world, but you've brought out a fabulous idea! And yepp, she's not gonna be a Noah, that'll be too cruel to her. Cuz, you know, actually I felt quite sorry for the people who become Noahs cuz they'll have to obey their Noah's memories and especially the first time they awaken, it'll be extremely painful. Buuuuuuuttt! Sadly, I just couldn't find a way for her to become involved in the story without her being an exorcist... Maybe I'll have her as an accommodator, but she'll hide from the Black Order...? Does that seem legit? Hmmm...**

**Codebreakeryuuki: Really? Oh well, I hope she don't suddenly become OOC or something, I have this inclination to mix my writing style as the story progress, hope you stick on, yeah? (Laughs nervously) Well my OC don't have a name yet, so you want to suggest? (Read the above A/N) Yes, we totally need more OC SI, I've only read one or two worthy fic! Got any good ones to suggest?**

**And, to all followers, favourites, and reviewers, thanks for the support!**


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